


A Prelude to Polyamory

by amo_amare



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bisexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Bondage, Dirty Talk, F/M, Kink Meme, Multi, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-03
Updated: 2011-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amo_amare/pseuds/amo_amare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rory has decided he's ready to welcome the Doctor into his and Amy's bed, but first, there are some things he needs Amy to understand.  (Read the author's notes for the kinkmeme prompt that inspired the story!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Prelude to Polyamory

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Eleven-era kinkmeme, [eleventy_kink](http://eleventy-kink.livejournal.com/). Inspired by the prompt: _Rory has finally decided that he would love to make a threesome with Eleven and Amy, but instead of telling her right away he decides to surprise her. He handcuffs her to the bed, gags her so she doesn’t interrupt him and starts telling her how he’d like to fuck the Doctor, or get fucked, or watch him while he makes Amy come with his mouth, etc._
> 
>  _He teases her while he talks, and she’s practically begging him to let her come already, but he doesn’t let her, not before he takes off the gag, opens the door to their bedroom and leaves it like that while he fucks her, knowing that she can’t keep quiet and that the Doctor can probably hear them from the control room._
> 
>  _Long prompt is long…_
> 
> Note: I had this story half-written before I realized the OP wanted a _gag_ and not a blindfold! So Amy is blindfolded initially, rather than gagged.
> 
>  **Possible triggers** : Initially might be considered dub-con, but consent is eventually discussed and given. (They choose a safe word.)

The smile he has on his face when he says he has a ‘surprise’ for her should have been her first clue. She knows Rory’s usual surprise face--that goofy, manic grin he gives her when he’s packed a picnic lunch or decided to take her to London for the weekend--and this face is decidedly different. Less manic, less goofy--more focused and intense.

Still, his excitement is palpable as he takes her hand and leads her back to their bedroom.

“Oh, so it’s a sexy surprise?” she observes as he leads her toward the bed. With a raised eyebrow, she puts on her most seductive purr: “Is this going to require a wardrobe change?” She lifts her chin toward the walk-in closet where she’s stashed a few of her sexiest Kiss-o-Gram costumes.

He smiles back at her. “No, what you’re wearing is fine. I might add one accessory, though.” From behind his back, he pulls out a long, red silk scarf.

She can feel a thrill of excitement run through her belly. “Now what’s this for?” She reaches out for the strip of fabric--it’s cool and slippery between her fingers.

He turns her round and begins to wrap the scarf over her eyes.

“Ooh, Mr. Pond! Are we going for kinky tonight?”

She can hear him swallow before he replies. “Definitely.”

There’s a strange hitch in his voice when he answers that makes the knot of excitement in her belly tighten. She’s usually the one to initiate these sorts of games, and she can’t wait to see what he’s got planned.

Once he’s fastened the silk securely, but not too tightly, over her eyes he turns her round to face him. She can feel the warmth of his breath against her face before his soft, slightly chapped lips reach out gently to brush against her own. It’s a feather touch, but just that light contact makes her shiver. They really should use the blindfold more often: every other sense is so much more intense when she can’t see, and she loves the thrill of not knowing what’s coming.

He reaches out a hand to steady her now, and dips his head to kiss down her throat, starting under her chin and moving to her collarbone. He leaves a trail of wet, hot heat running down her neck that pools in the little hollow at the base of her throat. Tension coils in her belly when he laves his tongue over her pulse points. She lets out a moan and then a gasp when his lips pull at her neck, sucking hard.

“Hey!” She laughs and pushes him away playfully. “We’re not sixteen: you don’t have to mark me!”

His silence is a surprise. She reaches out a hand to judge where he’s standing, but she can’t reach him. There’s a long beat before he says, “I love you, Amy.”

His voice is suddenly serious and she has no idea why, but she answers him in kind: “I love you, too.”

“Do you trust me?”

She pushes down a surge of panic. “Of course.” She reaches out for him, and he grabs her hands. She wants to ask him what’s going on, but he kisses her again. His mouth moves slowly against hers...he pulls her lower lip into his mouth and nips it lightly with his teeth. She smiles against him, grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling him full against her. When his tongue flicks out to taste her, she opens her mouth wide. She starts to move faster, pushing her tongue against his, wrestling for control of the kiss.

When they finally break apart, gasping, Amy can feel the edge of their bed pressed up against the back of her thighs. She lets him guide her down onto it, leaning back onto the pillows and swinging her legs up onto the coverlet. He follows her down, sitting on the edge of the bed and bending over to kiss her. Her mind is wrapped in the sensation of it when she feels him stretch her arm over her head behind her. Slowly, methodically, he begins to tie her wrist to the headboard with another scrap of silk.

“Where are you getting all these scarves from? Cheeky boy...what sort of dirty games are we up to tonight?”

She can hear him laugh as he busies himself tying her other wrist. She has just enough room to rest her arms comfortably next to her head on the pillow.

When her arms are securely tied, he surprises her by taking the blindfold from around her eyes. She blinks her eyes against the dim light of their bedroom, and when they focus, Rory is standing at the foot of their bed, his face deadly serious again.

“Rory, what’s going on?” Her voice is colored with worry, but also anger: he’s up to something, and he had better tell her what. “Rory, tell me now!”

“I love you very much, Amy. I want you to know that I’m doing this because I love you.”

There’s a thrill of panic again. “Rory? What is going on?” She pulls against the silk scarves tying her to the bed: they hold fast, without a hint of give. He’s gotten a lot better at knots since they first started playing these games.

“I want you to know that I love you and I want you to be happy. I was afraid for so long--afraid that you didn’t really love me, couldn’t love me, as much as I love you...”

“Rory, that’s not true...”

“I know! Amy, I know--and I trust you. I need you to trust me: I need you to let me speak.”

She nods, but her teeth are worrying at her lip.

He presses on, not taking his eyes from her face. “Amy, I love you so much, and I’ve always given you everything you wanted, without question. Everything but one thing...”

Amy can feel the blood drain from her face as she guesses where this is heading. Her hands are numb against her on the cool, cotton pillowcase.

“I know you fancy the Doctor, and that you love him, maybe even as much as you love me. I know that you want to be with him--maybe even more than you want to be with me. I know this. I could have let you have what you wanted, and I didn’t...”

“Rory, you don’t...”

“...because I want it, too.”

There’s a moment where all she can hear is the beating of her own heart. “What?”

“I want it too, Amy: just like you talked about. Just like _we_ talked about, in our fantasies...”

“Rory, you can’t mean...”

“The three of us together.”

She can hardly hear what he’s saying after that: something about not wanting either of them to get hurt, and not wanting to ruin their marriage, and being afraid of his own desire...the usual Rory dithering he went through over every decision in his life, from what to have for breakfast to whether he should look for a better nursing job at a bigger hospital. While he’s telling her why he thinks they can make this work, and how much he wants it as well as her, all she can think about is the last clear sentence she heard: “The three of us together.” The words have sent a wave of heat through her body. She might drown in it.

He’s still talking when she closes her eyes and arches her back against the pillows. Her arms strain against the silk scarves, and her hands are itching to reach down and feel the wetness between her legs. She cuts off his speech with a loud, resounding groan. “Ohhh, why did you have to tie my hands?”

When she opens her eyes to look at him, he’s watching her with that serious, intense stare again. He smiles. “Because before I let you have him, I need to tell you how it’s going to work. I need for you to understand something: that whatever may happen with us and him, you will always be mine.” As he talks, he’s moved closer to the bed, until he’s standing over her. “Do you understand?”

She licks her lips and nods. “Yes. Can you untie me now?”

He shakes his head slowly, frowning. “No, Amy: I don’t think you understand, and I need you to before we start anything with him. I need to make you understand.” He reaches out a hand to brush under her lip.

She smiles seductively now, thinking this is part of the game. “And how are you going to make me understand?”

He sits on the bed again and rests his hand on her stomach. With the other, he reaches to brush her hair from her face. He braces himself against the headboard and leans down for a kiss, the wood groaning as he puts his weight on it. While he plays at her lips, flicking his tongue softly against hers, his hand creeps down her stomach and under her skirt. He pushes it up impatiently and reaches between her legs. Her knickers are already wet, and he rubs his hand over her cotton-covered mound. Amy groans into his mouth.

He breaks away from her mouth abruptly. “So, how do you think we should begin, Amy?”

Her eyes are glazed with lust when she answers. “Begin? I thought we’d already begun...”

He laughs huskily. “Yes, love...but no, I didn’t mean tonight. How should we begin with the Doctor? Who should have him first? Now, one could argue that you’ve been waiting longer...” As he speaks, he continues to rub over her clit through her knickers. They’re soaked through, now. He brings one finger up to his mouth and sucks on it slowly, before offering it up to Amy. She draws the wet digit into her mouth and sucks eagerly. “Oh, good girl...” he says under his breath. “Yes, you’ve definitely waited longer, but then: you got to have the first kiss, didn’t you? And that wasn’t fair. We didn’t discuss that. No, maybe I should go first.”

Amy whimpers at the idea.

“Yeah, I think that’s the way to go.” He draws his finger out from her mouth and runs it under her shirt. It’s too awkward to remove her bra, with her lying down and tied to the bed as she is, so he just pushes it up and out of the way. Her nipples are already standing to attention; he uses his saliva-slick fingers to work them into a painful hardness.

“Oh, Rory...” Amy arches her back, trying to bring more of her skin into contact with his touch.

He goes on as if she hasn’t spoken. “There’s another reason I want to go first: I want to make sure that you’re up for this. I know we’ve talked about other men--me watching you, you watching me--but are you really ready for this to happen? Because this isn’t just your fantasy now, Amy: it’s mine.”

She can feel his tongue on her breast as he gives her a moment to think over what he’s just said. That’s all it had ever been before: a fantasy. It was one thing to discuss a fantasy as lovers, naked and horny and panting in bed. It was another to think about reality.

She doesn’t get far in her musing, because he’s taken the peak of her nipple between his teeth and is biting gently. “Oh, God...”

“Nope: just me.” He smirks, and she’d slap the smugness off his face if her hands weren’t tied. Damn him! She’s so turned on right now, and he’s moving so damn slow...

“So what do you think, Ames: are you ready to watch me with another man?” He’s laid alongside her now: his face is nuzzling the side of her breast and his hand is back down between her legs. His thumb is circling slowly over her clit while his other fingers dip lower to stroke her. She stretches against his hand, willing it deeper, wishing for the barrier of her knickers to be removed.

“Oh, no no no...” She’s practically sobbing out of frustration.

“No? You’re not ready?”

“No--yes! Oh, I don’t know, just...please!” She’s panting and grinding her hips against his hand now. She pulls at the scarves, fingers grasping for the orgasm she can’t reach.

He watches her silently, then leans to whisper in her ear: “What’s the word?”

She shivers at his breath on her neck. A safe word? Of course, this isn’t the first time it’s come up. They’ve always chosen one during their kinkier games, more out of form than necessity. They fancied themselves adventurous, sexual aficionados, but they’d never really done anything that required the use of a safe word before. Breathless, she gives him the first thing that comes to mind: “Bowtie.”

He laughs huskily and nips at her ear. “I can see where your mind is! But you know what I wonder? I wonder what his cock looks like. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

He’s actually waiting for her to answer, damn him! “What? No!”

“That’s a shame--it’d be nice to know what we’re getting into. I wonder what it tastes like?”

Amy groans and writhes, but Rory pulls back his hand and starts stroking more softly. She was so, so close, and now she’s drifting back down again...

“I love you, Amy, but I have missed cock...of course, you taste lovely-” he licks his fingers again now, grinning at her. “But I do love a nice, hard cock. Do you think he’ll fuck me?”

Again, he’s waiting for an answer--his eyes are boring into hers, his pupils blown to mirrored pools of onyx. “I...I don’t know...” She’s breathless when she answers him.

“Do you want him to fuck me?” As he says this, he’s pulling off his jeans. He lets out a hiss when the stiff fabric grazes over his erection.

Amy’s eyes are fixed to his crotch when she answers. “Yes.”

He starts to rub himself through his boxers. “Tell me.”

“What?”

“Tell me what you want him to do. I want to hear you say it.”

She licks her lips, and finds her mouth suddenly dry. “I want him to fuck you.”

He closes his eyes, and sighs. She wants him to start touching her again. “Rory, please...”

“I will, love--be patient. And tell me: what will you be doing while he fucks me?”

“I’ll be watching.”

“Just watching?”

“At first. At first I’ll just be watching.” She’s starting to get into this now. “I’ll watch as he kisses you, too light at first, because he’s so damn skittish...but you’ll grab him by those ridiculous braces and plant one on him good.”

Rory is smiling at her, approving. He has his cock out of his boxers and is stroking himself, slowly. “And then what? After I kiss him?”

Amy closes her eyes and pictures the scene. “You’ll grind your hips against him, and he’ll make that growling sound he does when the TARDIS isn’t working the way he wants it to...he’ll grab onto your arse, and you’ll reach up to grab him by the hair...” She can hear Rory’s deep, heavy breathing as she sets the scene. And then she hears the creak of their bedroom door. Her eyes fly open to see him walking back to their bed, the door to their room wide open. He stands over her, still stroking himself, and they lock eyes.

“And then what, Amy? Does he fuck me then?”

She eyes the open door nervously, but takes a deep, shaky breath and nods. “Yes.”

“How? How does he fuck me?”

“Gentle at first--he’s scared that he’ll hurt you.” She’s squeezing her thighs together now, trying desperately to create friction against her clit, but it’s not enough. She turns pleading eyes to her husband’s face, and her skin burns at the lust and desire she reads there. “But he can’t resist. He’s waited a long time to have you, and he was afraid he never would. He was afraid to let himself have this, and now that he does, he just can’t control himself. He’s pounding you so hard...”

“And what are you doing, Amy?” His voice is tight with the effort of control. He’s close, so close, but he won’t let himself come yet.

“I’m standing in front of you, you’re...you’re hunched over me. I’m backed up against the wall, and your hands are on my shoulders, pressing me into it. I’ve got your cock in my hand, and when I know you’re close, I kiss you--hard. The Doctor groans as he gets off, and then you come against me, over my hand, onto my stomach--”

Standing above her, Rory does just that. He bites down on his lip and grunts as his come spurts out over Amy’s soft, pale skin, little drops landing on her hastily pushed-up shirt. Amy moans, hard, and grinds her hips down against the bed. Her cunt is throbbing now, and her skin feels hot and feverish. She can feel the thrum of her heartbeat crashing against her eardrums. She needs so badly to come now...

“Rory, pleeeassee...” she whines, tossing her ginger hair back and forth across the pillowcase.

He’s sunk down onto the bed beside her again, boneless with his own release. He nuzzles his head down against her neck and kisses behind her ear. His breath is coming out in hot pants, raising goose flesh and sending chills down Amy’s spine.

Amy nudges him with her shoulder. “Rooorryyy, please! Now!” Her voice is high and whining.

He reaches a hand up to play with her nipples; she can feel him smiling against her neck. “You’re right, love: you’ve waited long enough.” The bed creaks as he pushes himself up. With his tongue, he starts to tease her breasts while his hand moves down to rub her crotch.

It isn’t enough. She needs more than he give her through the cotton of her knickers. She captures his hand between her thighs and squeezes, rhythmically pumping herself up against him. “Please, please, please...” she chants.

Mercifully, he reaches down to pull off her knickers. His fingers reach through the damp, red curls to stroke along her soft, slick folds. She groans at the incredible feel of his touch, still squeezing her thighs over his hand. He draws his hand out and splays it across her stomach. “Now, do I have to tie your feet?” His eyes are playful, but his tone is serious.

“No,” Amy answers, reluctantly.

“Good.” He goes back to stroking her softly, his thumb circling round her clit while his other fingers reach for her entrance. “Now, Amy: it’s your turn.”

“Yes!” Her eyes are closed, and she’s willing her hips to stay still and not buck up against him.

“No: it’s your turn with the Doctor. What will it be like?”

She meets his eyes and can feel a snap of electricity stab through her belly: damn, but he’s enjoying this! “I don’t...I don’t know...” She can’t form a solid thought, let alone speak, when he’s had her this close for this long...

“Should I tell you then? What I think it will be like?”

“Yes! Tell me!” She wants so desperately to release the tension that’s building down in her gut, but he’s moving too slow, taking his time.

“He’s going to worship you, Amy: he’s going to worship every inch of your body.”

“Ohhhh....” Her moan is loud, and she’s reminded of the open door to their bedroom. Rory is looking at her--not taking his eyes from her face. He’s looking at her the way he did for a week after she agreed to marry him: like he can’t believe she’s real. That look, and his hands--his long, strong fingers pushing into her pussy...she can’t help but gasp out her breath in another loud groan.

Rory places a kiss on her breast, and continues his narrative. “You were right, you know: he’d be slow at first, cautious. He doesn’t want you to get hurt. And now that he has his Amelia, he’ll want to take his time...I know I did...”

“Mmm!” The noise she makes is almost a squeak. He presses hard against her clit, then flicks it slowly, back and forth, with his thumb. She’s biting her lip now to keep from crying out.

“He’ll want to taste you--every bit of you.” Rory starts to demonstrate, placing kisses on her knee, her navel--running up to her mouth and then back down to where his fingers are working between her legs. She’s about to fall, to finally tip over into her climax, but somehow he knows--damn it, but he _always_ knows!--and draws his hand out before she can come.

“Damn it! Rory, I’m so close! Please!” She doesn’t care how loud she is now: she _needs_ him to touch her again so she can come! It doesn’t matter anymore _who_ hears her...

Rory is licking his fingers clean, and watching her with a smile. “Of course,” he says between fingers, “he’ll save the best spot for last.” He crawls down to position his face between her legs. Amy is practically crying with frustration. “Do you want this?”

“Yes!” she sobs. “Please, yes!”

“Will you want it just as much when it’s the Doctor’s face between your legs?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“More? Will you want him more?”

She cranes her head up so she can see him. There’s that look of feral, animal intensity again. Amy takes a deep breath and composes herself as best she can. She looks him straight in the eye. “There is nothing I want more than your mouth between my thighs _right now_!” She punctuates her statement with her best sexy smirk, and is relieved when he returns the expression.

But then...oh, then he dives into her cunt with lips and tongue, and his long, knobby fingers are reaching up inside her, curving into the spot, that perfect _spot_ that makes the world go sideways. He tongues apart her labia and runs his rough, velvet tongue round her clit before taking it into his mouth and sucking.

Amy is trying not to buck against him, but it’s all too, too much...she’s been teased, and touched, and built up into a frenzy, and now she’s reaching, but can’t quite make it there. Out of her mouth comes a torrent of cursing and moaning, so loud she’s sure the Doctor can hear her, but she’s far past caring at this point. Her wrists are sore from the strain of pulling against her silken bonds, and her shoulders ache from the position. She can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her belly, but it won’t spring loose.

Then Rory’s fingers curl, and he presses firmly against her g-spot. At the same time his mouth pulls back, and he moves his tongue in quick, light flicks against her clit.

And that’s it. The coil of tension explodes, spiralling outward in waves, and Amy shrieks out her climax in loud, triumphant shouts. “Oh! Oh! Yes, Rory, YES!”

When he crawls up the bed to lay his head on her chest, she can’t believe how fast her heart is beating. If only talking about sex with the Doctor can be this good...

 

 _It’s true, they don’t put up a balloon: but then, they don’t really need to. Amy’s not the quiet sort, and even if she weren’t, it would be hard to ignore the psychic vibrations that practically bounce off the walls every time they couple. The TARDIS practically hums with them, a soft, seductive melody that tells him she entirely approves..._

 _Even still, this time is different. He’s walking down the corridor from the library when he hears the door to their bedroom creak open. Funny it should be opening, now--from the contented sighs the TARDIS was making, he could swear they were..._

 _He’s almost convinced himself to turn around and walk back to the console room--there must be_ something _that needs fiddling with--when he hears his name. Not only does he hear his name, but he hears it said in such a peculiar way... He doesn’t consciously decide to move closer, but he finds himself standing just outside their door all the same._

 _And what he hears--oh, what he hears. It’s like they’ve copied a fantasy straight out his head. He should_ definitely _leave now, but his psychic link with the TARDIS has her projecting sensations directly through his nervous system, quickfire bursts of white hot pleasure running down his limbs and through his groin. There’s moaning, and pleading, and a delicious thrum, thrum, thrum racing through his blood..._

 _He doesn’t remember pulling himself out of his trousers or starting to wank to the erratic rhythm of his companions’ love-making. He only snaps back into himself after he comes, spilling out over his own hand, his breath pounding out of his body in a heavy sigh._

 _And now comes the wait for the night they decide to come knock on his door..._


End file.
